


Equilateral

by Crazy_Dumpling



Category: Super Junior
Genre: BDSM, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Multi, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/pseuds/Crazy_Dumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donghae just needs to breathe. Siwon and Zhou Mi understand this more than most other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equilateral

**Author's Note:**

> My final (!!!!) kink_bingo fic for this round - written to fulfil the 'whipping/flogging' square. General warnings for bondage themes and flogging a Fish with a riding crop. Thank you, Donghae, for saying that you like to freak all night long, even if I'm not sure if you knew exactly what you were talking about.

As he follows Siwon down the anonymous hotel corridor, Donghae fights to control the rising sense of excitement building in his chest. He had hoped, of course, that either Siwon or Zhou Mi might relent and give in, but he never though they’d be this prompt about things. Donghae supposes it’s down to the fact that he’s been acting up for days, feeling the dull throb of lust and urgency building slowly during this past week from a minor irritation, suffered through boringly repetitive interviews, to a full-blown obsession, his brain constantly replaying memories of the last time he allowed himself to indulge in this.

He finally snapped two days ago, when Siwon was talking to him over the phone about how the drama filming was going and complaining about the most random things, like being scared of stepping on jelly fish or how the sea air wasn’t the best for his hair, and how he was going to act like a convincing playboy, or…

“Just stop!” He’d snapped, unable to bear either the constant stream of complaints or the tension building in his body much longer. There’d been a silence on the other end of the line, and Donghae had to make excuses for his outburst, saying that he was too tired, the schedule for promotions was becoming unbearable, he wasn’t sleeping —

“You want me to talk to him?” Siwon asked quietly, interrupting Donghae’s tirade. “I’m coming back to Seoul on the weekend. We can arrange something, if you’d like.”

“Please.” Donghae doesn’t like to think he was begging, but his body was wound up so tightly, he’d thought he’d suffocate if he didn’t find some kind of release soon.

Faster than he’d expected, Zhou Mi had sent him a text yesterday. Donghae had to assume that it was Zhou Mi, of course, because the mobile number he’d sent it from was unlisted, though the careful wording of the message itself left no doubt. It was a simple, single line, providing him with the hotel’s address, a room number, and a time. Donghae had read the message several times over, while he was seated in front of the dorm’s TV, just to memorise the details.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Sungmin asked. He was carrying a load of laundry and Donghae spied one of his pink nightgowns flung on top of one of Hyukjae’s old t-shirts. “You look like you’re planning something depraved.”

“Ah, hyung.” For the first time in a long while, Donghae’s smile was wide and sincere. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Sungmin had muttered something under his breath about surprises and the lack thereof, but had shuffled on, and Donghae had hugged himself in happiness, almost dizzy with relief.

Now that they’re actually here, though, the anticipation has started to become almost choking in its intensity. Siwon stops at room number 1510, throws Donghae a look over his shoulder. Siwon always looks so different when they make these journeys, his expression hovering somewhere between apprehension and impatience. He’s frowning as he looks down the corridor to make sure they haven’t been followed, and Donghae would dearly love to kiss the crease that appears between his eyebrows when he frowns, but this isn’t the right time. Not yet.

Siwon raps out a complicated series of knocks on the plain wooden door. The hotel Zhou Mi’s chosen is pleasant and bland; a corporate chain catering to business travellers, its major advantage is that it’s completely anonymous. The receptionist didn’t even blink when Siwon and Donghae walked through the lobby.

There is an answering voice from within, and Siwon slides a keycard into the lock, and pushes open the door. Then he gestures for Donghae to go in first.

The room is massive; it must be some kind of executive suite, because there’s a huge couch in the middle of the room, and there’s an equally huge bed behind it. The floor-to-ceiling windows, which would have provided a view of downtown Seoul, have had heavy drapes pulled across them, shutting out the light. The whole place is lit by a dim yellow glow, and Donghae feels like he is disappearing into some sort of secret underground chamber, unseen by the rest of the world.

Zhou Mi is waiting inside, unpacking something from a small case. He’s dressed simply in a white shirt rolled up to the elbows and black jeans, showing off his impossibly long legs to their best advantage. Behind him, Donghae can hear Siwon’s soft murmur of appreciation. He, on the other hand, feels a shudder of excitement go through him when he sees the object Zhou Mi is holding in his hands.

The riding crop is a familiar sight to Donghae now, but he still remembers the first time Zhou Mi used it on him, and has to duck his head as a blush steals across his face. He tries not to think about the sound it makes on his skin and the sensation of each strike landing on his ass.

“You were almost late,” Zhou Mi says, a questioning tone in his voice. “Another minute and I was going to start worrying that you’d forgotten about tonight.”

Siwon shuffles forward. The contrast between the two — Siwon’s old-world, movie-star beauty against Zhou Mi’s sharper sensuality — always manages to catch Donghae off-guard, and for a moment he allows himself to admire them before realising that they’re discussing _him_ in hushed undertones, Siwon gesturing with his hands, Zhou Mi nodding in agreement.

“Hey, guys!” They turn to look at him and Donghae realises how whiny it sounds. He winces. “Look, Mimi. The taxi from the dorm was late, OK? I should’ve sent you a message or something, but I thought we could —”

Zhou Mi holds up a hand, and Donghae knows that he should shut up now, but the trouble-maker in him decides to play up.

“Come on, Siwon was later than me!” He wheedles, taking off the hooded jacket he wore on the way here to conceal his identity, tossing it on an elegant armchair he spies nearby. “He only had to get here from the airport! You know it’s much further from the dorms! And I tried to get out of my schedule faster, Mimi, but you know how those radio deejays love to go on and on.”

“Sort of like what you’re doing now, stupid,” Siwon interjects, throwing him a dirty look. He’s carrying a duffel bag which he sets down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He unzips it, takes out a square piece of cloth and hands it to Zhou Mi, who unfolds it. “Is that what you wanted, Mi?”

A nod, and Zhou Mi hands it back to Siwon. Then he seats himself down on the couch, crossing his booted legs. The expression on his face shifts from his usual happy-to-see-you demeanour to something colder, haughtier. Donghae feels his breathing become more rapid; even in his simple clothes, Zhou Mi looks every inch the authoritarian leader, someone who is used to issuing commands and having them obeyed.

Donghae bites his lip to keep from moaning in anticipation.

“You know what you’re asking for?” Zhou Mi asks. His voice has taken on an impatient edge. He sounds ruthless. Donghae nods, stares at the floor like a chastened schoolboy.

“How many?” That’s Siwon, who’s come to stand at Zhou Mi’s side. “How many do you think you deserve?”

“Ten.” Donghae says, proud that his voice is only slightly shaky. “I want ten strokes.”

Siwon sucks in a breath. “Greedy. That’s far too many; you’ll bleed all over the bed.”

Donghae looks at Zhou Mi helplessly, feels the desperate craving for the relief only he can provide. “ _Please_. I want —”

Zhou Mi cuts him off with a look. “You’ll speak when I tell you to, Dong Hai. Shi Yuan’s right; we’ve only ever given you up to six strikes each time. You need to think about the consequences of your desire more carefully. Each time we help, you seem to think that what we do here is a service, more than a privilege to be thankful for. You would not want to be ungrateful, surely?”

“N-no.” Donghae murmurs, suitably humble. But need thrums through his body and makes it hard for him to think straight. Especially not when he can hear Siwon rustling in his bag, taking out things and laying them out on the coffee table for Zhou Mi’s approval. Again, he tries to repress the shudder that goes through him.

“Ten strokes,” Zhou Mi is saying, “would break your skin. You have a full schedule tomorrow. Two radio interviews and a variety show recording. These all require your fullest attention. What would happen if people saw you bleeding? What do you imagine they wold say? How they would react to the news that you were such a slut for a good beating? Think about these things before you make such silly requests.”

He gets up from the couch and stalks over, the light reflecting off his shiny black boots, the crop held in one hand. Siwon hangs back, his eyes darting between Donghae and Zhou Mi. Donghae can see the thin black circle of leather around Siwon’s neck, partially hidden from view by his grey t-shirt and he marvels at Siwon’s bravery in wearing such an obvious mark of Zhou Mi’s ownership in public.

Zhou Mi places the tip of the riding crop under Donghae’s chin, lifts it so their eyes meet. Donghae tries very hard not to moan out loud at the sensation of the leather on his skin, but a tiny mewl escapes him anyway.

Zhou Mi’s dark eyes peer into him, and Donghae wants to look away, but knows he can’t. This is important because Zhou Mi must understand why he wants all ten strikes from the crop, that he isn’t afraid of pain, or blood. They make him feel alive in the most primal sense, and Donghae knows that the public would scream and the fans would cry if they ever found out. That is why he trusts Zhou Mi and Siwon — they both understand what it’s like to feel the choking pressure of expectation, of the clawing fear of failure and the unbelievable freedom to be found in the complete surrender of control to another person.

Despite promising himself that he wouldn’t, Donghae trembles again. His skin feels clammy, and his palms are starting to sweat.

“Look at you,” Zhou Mi says, the tone of his voice just a little concerned. He places the crop against Donghae’s cheek. “You really do need this right now.”

“I do,” Donghae manages. Gulps in air. “Please I need it now.”

“Hmm.” This time, Zhou Mi slides the crop down Donghae’s chest. “All right. You know what to do. Shirt off — but leave your jeans on.”

Donghae’s about to protest, but already Siwon is stalking over to help him undress.

“Shh,” he says. Presses a quick kiss upon Donghae’s lips. “It means you’re going to get all ten.”

And Donghae wonders just how much longer Siwon and Zhou Mi have been carrying out this ritual. He supposes it must have been when Han Geng left, because he’d noticed the change in both men, the subtle glances and casual touches. The way Zhou Mi’s eyes would light up whenever Siwon stalked into a room. How Siwon was so fiercely protective of Zhou Mi.

He shakes his head. Remembers the first time he’d seen the crop on Zhou Mi’s bookshelf. A simple black whip, Zhou Mi personalised it with a thin tiger-striped ribbon around the handle. No one else in the dorms had noticed, of course, but Donghae asked what it was straight away. The only answer had been Siwon blushing violently and Zhou Mi changing the subject. But he kept pestering both Siwon and Zhou Mi whenever he got the chance, until one night Siwon finally cracked and asked Zhou Mi to show Donghae what the crop used for.

Donghae likes to think of it as his sexual awakening; he’d been flogged three times across his thighs and ass, and had found himself loving every minute of it. The marks from that first encounter stayed with him for a few weeks and every time he sat down to a meal, his inability to sit still for more than a few minutes was testimony to Zhou Mi’s skill with the crop. That night, he’d cried longer and harder than he’d ever cried before, cradled comfortably in the circle of Siwon and Zhou Mi’s arms. Safe in their mutual embrace, he had felt freer than he ever thought he could.

He starts as Siwon pulls him over to the couch. Cool air hits his naked skin and raises goosebumps, but Donghae hardly notices. Siwon looks at Zhou Mi, head cocked to one side slightly, asking a silent question. Zhou Mi nods, hands him the length of black material and Donghae gasps silently as Siwon ties it around his eyes. The world disappears from sight, and Donghae’s excitement reaches fever-pitch. Siwon checks that the knot is secure before looping more cloth around Donghae’s wrists.

“Too tight?” he asks, and Donghae somehow finds it in himself to reply that everything feels just fine. Hands — he isn’t sure whose — lead him to the arm of the couch and lay him across it so that Donghae’s ass is positioned perfectly for what is about to follow. Siwon takes hold of Donghae’s bound wrists, the warmth of his hands helping to calm Donghae’s rapid breathing.

“Ready?” Zhou Mi asks, and from the sound of his voice, Donghae knows he’s standing behind him. Relief is so close he can hardly form the right words, but he grunts, and it’s enough for Zhou Mi. “OK. You remember your safe word?”

“Mokpo.”

It’s perverse, of course, to use his hometown as a safe word, but when Donghae had picked it, he wasn’t sure what he was getting into. Since his first time, however, he’s stuck with Mokpo, too lazy to think of anything else. He’s never had to use it, either.

“Good. Count for me, Shi Yuan.”

The first stroke lands on Donghae’s upper back, light as a feather, worn leather whispering against his skin, providing just the barest kiss of sensation. Donghae shifts, holds onto Siwon for more balance and braces himself for the next blow.

“One,” Siwon says. His voice sounds far away now, and all Donghae can do is focus on anticipating where the next blow will fall.

The sound of the whip swishing through the air is his only warning before the whip lands in nearly the same spot as before, only this time Zhou Mi brings the crop down a bit harder, so that the sting is more pronounced. As the leather strikes his skin again, Donghae shifts, resting his forehead against Siwon’s thigh, breathes out and loses himself in the moment. He’s hard now, so hard it hurts and he whimpers as his cock pushes against his jeans, tries to find some friction, but the surface of the couch is too slippery, and Siwon hisses in annoyance as he moves back and forth, holds on to him more tightly, his long fingers clutching and leaving marks on Donghae’s skin.

Siwon counts off the blows, and Zhou Mi increases the intensity of each stroke, moving from Donghae’s back down to his upper thighs, deliberately ignoring Donghae’s ass. These are light strikes, and they don’t hurt very much. It’s incredibly frustrating, and Donghae is always greedy for more contact, more sensation. By the fifth count, Donghae doesn’t even bother to try and contain his moaning. He knows the effect it has on the other two, of course. Siwon’s reaction is the most immediate. He shifts in his seat, the grip around Donghae’s wrists loosening for a moment. Then his lips are brushing the curve of Donghae’s ear.

“Stop that,” he says, as Zhou Mi pauses for a moment. “Don’t you think you’re getting enough attention already? Mimi’s doing you a favour and helping you out, and all you can think of is getting laid? Isn’t that a bit too selfish?”

Donghae wants to say something smart but is cut off almost immediately by the sudden burst of heat across his ass as Zhou Mi brings the crop down hard. The breath rushes out of him, and he feels the hot stripe barely seconds before another blow lands in almost the same place. Siwon counts seven, and Donghae is barely aware of it because, for the first time all night, he’s finally getting what he’s been thinking about for days. Zhou Mi hasn’t held back, either. Donghae understands why his jeans are still on; if he’d been naked (as he usually is for these sessions), he’d be bleeding by now.

Instead, the pain that follows these first two blows is almost completely eclipsed by the hot rush of pleasure that floods Donghae’s veins. The tension that’s been choking him in the past few days begins to melt away from his chest, and the world seems to narrow down to just this point in time. He can breathe again, but he needs more of the heady mix of pleasure-pain and the relief it promises. He gasps against Siwon’s leg, wants to dig his teeth into the fleshy part of Siwon’s thigh, but knows that it is against the rules.

“More?” Zhou Mi asks, sounding breathless. Donghae can picture him in his head; the first few buttons of his staid white shirt undone and the skin beneath flushed with exertion. He licks his lips, whispers ‘yes’ against the rough material of Siwon’s trousers.

Quicker than he can comprehend, Zhou Mi lands another accurate hit, this time just below the area where the first two blows fell. Donghae grunts, hears Siwon count eight and yelps when Zhou Mi cups his erection through the front of his jeans. He tries not to push himself against Zhou Mi’s hand.

“Look at you,” there is a teasing tone in Zhou Mi’s voice. “So eager. Like some cheap street-walker.”

“Dirty Fishy,” Siwon agrees. “What would all your fans say?”

Damn them both. Donghae growls loudly, but Siwon holds him in place, chuckling as he does so. Zhou Mi slides the crop up Donghae’s upper thigh, and Donghae finds himself whimpering as the tip drags higher, caressing one of his ass cheeks. There is a burst of laughter from somewhere above him and this time Donghae can’t tell whether it’s Zhou Mi or Siwon.

“Don’t be pricks,” he pleads, even though he knows he’s not allowed to talk. Donghae likes the boundaries that Zhou Mi erects around their play; he loves to see how far he can push them until they crumble, or he gets punished for his disobedience. “Mimi, _come on_.”

This little display of rebelliousness earns him a sharp, open-handed slap on his ass. Donghae jerks into the contact, moans as his erection butts up against the edge of the couch.

“Manners.” Zhou Mi’s voice is cold, distant. It just turns Donghae on even more. “Do that again and I’ll leave a mark on that pretty face of yours and you can tell the managers how you got it.”

Despite the reprimand, Donghae grins to himself.

He howls suddenly as Zhou Mi flogs him with the crop again, hitting him with more force than he’s ever used before; it’s as if he’s putting all his weight and strength into the stroke. The burn that follows is exquisite in its agony, red streaks of pleasure exploding behind his blindfolded eyes. He writhes in Siwon’s grip, gasping as his sensitive nipples slide against couch’s cool leather, a distinct counterpart to the rasp and scratch of the leather riding crop. He tastes his lips, doesn’t want this to end, but can’t help himself wanting that next, final blow right now. His whole body is on edge, it seems, yearning for the last kiss of Zhou Mi’s whip.

“Nine.”

Siwon’s hands steady Donghae this time, hold him up. He feels Siwon’s lips on his forehead, and Siwon’s tongue licking away his sweat. Donghae shifts, whimpers as Zhou Mi puts a hand on the base of his back, the warmth of it bleeding into Donghae’s cooler skin. Donghae’s tries not to think about the many times those hands have touched and teased, brought him to the brink of ecstasy and then snatched it cruelly away before finally indulging him after many desperate pleas. How they leave him wrung out afterwards; his lust sated and his body exhausted. But Donghae can’t think about all those things right now, so he just concentrates on his breathing.

Zhou Mi checks that he’s feeling all right, and Donghae nods weakly, too jittery to commit to anything more complicated. Then Zhou Mi takes his hand away and Donghae knows this is his cue to prepare himself for the last blow. He breathes in deep, stills his body and focuses his mind on remaining in aware of everything happening around him; Siwon’s grip on his hands, the puff of the air-conditioner, the distant roar of traffic outside, Zhou Mi standing behind him.

Donghae breathes out, just as Zhou Mi sweeps the crop through the air before bringing it down on Donghae’s ass with all the strength he can muster. Donghae feels the blow land, hears the sound of the crop landing on his jeans. It seems as though he’s left his body, because the pain that usually follows doesn’t come immediately, and he can’t fathom why.

The seconds seem to drag on for minutes, hours, days. Years. Still nothing. Silence yawns between all of them. Donghae is lost. It feels as though he is drifting away from himself, no longer in control of his body, hovering in some limbo where nothing makes sense.

And then, the pain hits him. Like a thunderstorm breaking without warning, it roars through him, and if he thought he’d understood it before, Donghae realises he was sorely mistaken. It claws through him like a wild animal, streaking white and red across his vision, and he notices his throat is raw, that he’s been screaming with the shock of it. Siwon is murmuring something in his ear, holding him tightly in an awkward half-embrace. Donghae tries to mouth words, to say something, anything, but he can’t.

The pain, he thinks, is perfect. It’s all he can register and the sensation of freedom, of relief, that follows is almost unbearable. He slumps into Siwon’s arms, allows himself to be pulled into Siwon’s lap.

He barely notices Zhou Mi dropping into the couch beside them.

“Donghae-ah,” fingers gently pull the blindfold off him, release the bindings around his wrists. Donghae blinks in the semi-darkness, sees Siwon and Zhou Mi peering at him with similar expressions of concern. “Are you OK?”

Too weak with relief, Donghae nods. He pulls Zhou Mi closer with a shaky hand, kisses him long and deep, then bestows the same reward on Siwon.

“How do you feel now?” Zhou Mi asks gently. He runs a thumb over the inside of Donghae’s wrists, smiling as Donghae gasps at the contact. “Better?”

“Fuck yeah!” Donghae’s smile is radiant. “That was amazing, Mimi. Even better than that time in Taiwan.”

Zhou Mi flushes with pleasure, and Siwon guffaws, remembering the shambles they’d left the hotel room in that time. Then he pulls Zhou Mi in for another kiss, and Donghae watches as Zhou Mi shifts closer, so that all of their arms and legs are tangled together.

Siwon reaches out for Zhou Mi, and as he does, his hand brushes against the crotch of Donghae’s jeans, prompting a frustrated moan. He’s still painfully hard, and the sight of his two companions exploring the depths of each other’s mouths excites him almost unbearably. Jealous for the same physical affection, he tugs at Siwon’s other arm until Siwon growls and pulls away.

“Selfish,” he says, lips red. “I haven’t seen Mimi for a two weeks! Wait your turn.”

“Let him,” Zhou Mi counters, almost at the same time.

They exchange a look and Siwon gives in (he always gives in to Zhou Mi). He kisses Donghae while Zhou Mi undoes the top button of his jeans and helps him pull them off. Donghae hisses as the denim brushes against the tender skin of his ass and Zhou Mi clicks his tongue as he takes in the damage.

“Nothing too bad. But we’ll put some lotion on it so the skin doesn’t break, just in case.”

Donghae nods and watches as Zhou Mi stalks over to the coffee table, marvelling at his easy grace. Siwon tugs on Donghae’s chin, pulls him close and gives him another kiss. It is deeper this time, hungrier, and Donghae has to fight the urge to unzip Siwon’s jeans and have him right then and there. The flogging has amplified his lust, made him hyper-aware of his surroundings. He wants — needs — to come soon. Adrenalin is still pulsing through him, and Donghae has to remember to go slow, because there’s no point in rushing anything with either Siwon or Zhou Mi. Especially not when he’s got both of them right here.

Zhou Mi moves to sit behind him, and Donghae yelps as hands rub cold lotion into his skin, beginning at the top of his back and moving downwards. Zhou Mi describes large circles with his fingers, digging into the muscle, and Donghae can’t help moaning as Zhou Mi finally reaches the curve of his ass.

“More,” he orders, voice trembling. Zhou Mi sniggers.

“Such a little princess. I can’t do it properly like this. Get over to the bed like a good boy.”

Donghae curses under his breath but does as he’s told, walking a little unsteadily over to the bed, leaning on Siwon for support.

The sheets are a pristine pale cream, and Siwon pulls them back as Donghae sinks onto the bed face-first with a contented sigh.

“On your side,” Zhou Mi says, and Donghae has just enough strength to comply. There is a wet-sounding noise as Zhou Mi pumps more lotion onto his hands, and then he’s at Donghae’s back, cupping Donghae’s ass with slick fingers. Donghae whimpers, pushes back against Zhou Mi. Bites down on his bottom lip as Zhou Mi begins to massage him agonisingly slowly. Despite the soreness of the skin, it feels incredible, the sensation of cold lotion on Donghae’s hot skin and Zhou Mi’s gentle fingers the most perfect counterpoint to the restrained brutality of just now.

Siwon joins them after stripping off, and both Zhou Mi and Donghae watch lasciviously as his perfectly sculpted body is revealed to them. Zhou Mi’s fingers stutter for a moment as Siwon’s thick, hard cock is freed from his too-tight boxers, but he soon recovers his composure.

“Come help our Fishy out,” he whispers, voice gone smoky. The bed dips under Siwon’s weight and he turns to face them. Slides his hand down Donghae’s body and takes hold of Donghae’s cock.

“Fuck!” The exclamation falls from Donghae’s lips as Siwon begins to jack him off. There isn’t any lubricant to ease the way, but Zhou Mi reaches around, gets the bottle of baby lotion and squirts some into Siwon’s hand. They work together in perfect harmony, Siwon pumping Donghae, Zhou Mi kissing and licking a trail up Donghae’s neck, teeth nipping at his skin.

Donghae throws his head back, his hips thrusting blindly into Siwon’s grip, mouthing guttural, incoherent half-words mixed with sighs and groans. Always wanting more. Zhou Mi dips his head, swallows the next sound Donghae makes with his lips, his tongue licking its way into Donghae’s mouth with the same kind of ruthless precision Zhou Mi applies to just about everything he does.

He’s so close. Donghae wraps one hand around Zhou Mi’s head, pushes his fingers through dark red hair to keep Zhou Mi in place, then digs the fingers of his other hand into Siwon’s upper arm, pulling him closer as his hips jerk to the rhythm Siwon is playing on his dick, becoming more and more frantic as pleasure crests through him.

Breathing becomes difficult. But Donghae manages, somehow, heat clawing its way across his chest.

He comes with his eyes closed and tears himself away from Zhou Mi’s lips just in time to gasp soundlessly as his spunk splatters Siwon’s abs, his climax shuddering through him with the force of a hurricane. He gasps and gasps and gasps for air, feeling as though he’s run two marathons around Seoul.

“Freaky little Fish,” Siwon says, fondly, sounding just a little bit tired. Donghae wants to tell him to shut up, but all the energy has left his body. Instead he allows Siwon to give him a kiss on his forehead. Zhou Mi waits until Donghae opens his eyes to do the same, his smile as bright and as wide as ever.

“All good now?”

Donghae nods. Rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Winces a little at the burn on the cheeks of his ass. That’s going to be sore tomorrow, but he can’t bring himself to care.

~

Later, he watches as Zhou Mi strips slowly for Siwon’s hungry gaze, his black boots shining in the dim light, before he rides Siwon into the mattress. Siwon clutches at Zhou Mi’s waist and thighs, mutters obscenities and marvels at Zhou Mi’s glory in the same mouthful. For his part, Zhou Mi is mostly silent, until Siwon strokes a hand up Zhou Mi’s back.

“Mimi,” he says, as though nothing else in the world matters. It’s the fucking sexiest thing Donghae’s seen, and if he wasn’t so spent already he’s sure he’d be hard all over again. “Mimi, you’re so beautiful.”

Zhou Mi keens, works his hips and pushes down onto Siwon, head thrown back, a low howl of pleasure bursting out of him. Siwon holds on the whole time, and Donghae doesn’t even feel a little jealous because all of this is wonderful to behold.

~

All three of them fall asleep together. Donghae insists on being in the middle and despite some protests from Siwon, Zhou Mi agrees. In the morning, Donghae wakes the other two by bouncing on the bed like he’s ten, turns on the TV and makes them watch something about fishermen in Alaska.

Zhou Mi devises a punishment as retaliation. It involves Donghae being tied up again.

The bedsheets get torn.

~

“Hey,” Donghae croaks that evening, when he sees Sungmin back at the dorms. Zhou Mi is talking to Jongwoon somewhere and Siwon’s gone back to his drama set.

“Hey yourself,” Sungmin replies. He’s making ramen but he stops, looks Donghae up and down, takes in the rumpled clothes and the bruised lips and messy hair. Sniggers.

“Knew you were up to something depraved.”

And if he notices how red Donghae goes, Sungmin doesn’t say anything.


End file.
